Trees!

I loved trees.

That age ... when you see only roses and not the underlying thorns, when you see the sunshine and not the shadows that fall because of it, when everything seems beautiful and you believe that with effort and will you can achieve what you set your mind on. Yes, it was at that age that I saw the lush green tree. It was a tall strong tree with wide branches and under its shade sat a girl. She was busy writing something. The tree belonged to her. The fruits, the shade, the cool breeze that blew under it, the protection ... all belonged to her. She watered it with love and swept the place around the tree clean. She had even kept a bowl of water hanging on the branch of the tree so that birds could come and quench their thirst. She loved the tree and the tree loved her.

Wouldn’t it be really nice if I had a tree of my own too? Yes, I wished for a tree for myself. I saw one from far away. It looked good. Looked good. I walked towards it and claimed it to be mine. Initially the shade of the tree seemed very comforting. Seemed. I was prepared to adjust to any shortcomings that the tree might have had. But the tree sensed that. There was no cool breeze under it. It didn’t bear any fruits. What was worse was that the trunk was infested with ants. I couldn’t even rest under it or lean my back and sit. I started getting weary. And then that night of the heavy storm ... It thundered, it rained and I stood under the tree, shivering and wet. The tree couldn’t protect me. That night put a hundred questions in my head and slowly I started walking away from the tree. There was nothing that now attached or bound me to the tree. I yearned for shade, for protection, for care. The tree couldn’t give any. I walked  away ...

I now stood amidst a jungle. Full of trees. Full of variety of trees. I looked again for a tree that I could claim. I saw a big strong tree. Once bitten, twice shy. I checked the trunk for ants. There were none. I smiled and leant on it. The shade it offered from the harsh sunlight was tempting. I slept under it peacefully. And a snake slithered down from the branches. I woke up to see the snake staring at me. I don’t think it wanted to hurt me immediately but it frightened me all the same. I was wondering as to how to get rid of it when one by one many other snakes started coming down from the branches. I realised the tree belonged to them and not to me. I walked away ...

Deep into the jungle ... I kept walking till I came across a beautiful tree. I took a broken branch of a tree and hit the branches of the tree. Any snake that clung on might make itself visible and I would know whether to sit under the tree or not. None. I heaved a sigh of relief and sat under the tree, enjoying the canopy-like shade of it. Finally. Or not so. At night, I woke up with a stinging sensation all over my body. There were red ants all over my body. I looked for the place where they came from ... a hole under the tree. I quickly dusted off the ants from my body, sore with pain and itching all over. I walked away ...

And now I keep walking. I don’t like trees anymore. The trees stifle me, tease me, mock me and much worse, hurt me. It isn’t that all the trees are bad, maybe a good tree simply isn’t in my destiny. I am much too sore, too tired, too disheartened, too weary, too disillusioned, too exhausted. It takes an enormous lot out of me to trust the goodness of a tree and each time I do so I am left hurting. I don’t have it in me anymore to seek a good tree. I want to run away from this jungle ... out to the open land. To the desert. Or the sea. They don’t pretend to offer comfort. They are barren and desolate. But at least they don’t pretend. I don’t have any expectations from them and I know I will have to look out for myself. No false promises from the desert or the sea.

I hate trees.